


there is a chain on my door

by snowsoju



Series: HQSwiftWeek2020 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Miya Osamu-centric, Regrets, There Was an Attempt at Writing, reversed pov of back to december
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowsoju/pseuds/snowsoju
Summary: HQSWIFT WEEK DAY 2: Speak Now album(Back to December)-------------------------------------------------Osamu had almost forgotten the day when the rain poured, forgotten the way his onigiris grew cold, forgotten the man who broke his heart.Almost.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: HQSwiftWeek2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921630
Kudos: 14





	there is a chain on my door

**Author's Note:**

> paragraphs on italics are a flashback

It was a slow day in Onigiri Miya. There were a few customers inside, but nothing Osamu can call a full day. Some came for a quick lunch, mostly salary men trying to cram food into their system while chasing a deadline. Others were old people whom Osamu was familiar with from always staying in his shop, keeping him company for slow hours like this.

Osamu loved his work. Though quite back-breaking and would require him to wake up early, he doesn't mind. He loves seeing the smiles on his patrons' faces, the way their eyes light up at the first bite of his onigiri. Like children being given their first candy.

A little hyperbolic, even for Osamu. It was a near comparison, though. Someone said to him that onigiris were part of human warmth. The hands that molded them always give away a little bit of themself, a little bit of love, providing another person's soul the warmth it desperately desires.

_ "The first bite of an onigiri is always precious, always tasteful, always delicious," A man with the softest smile said to him. "The first bite is what ties their thoughts to you, if they loved or hated you, if what they chose to share is friendship or acquaintance." _

Osamu sighed. Perhaps the lack of people is making his head spin and craft delusions into his head. He was not the type of person to get sentimental nor look back at things already over. Even Atsumu teased him of how he embodied their school motto "who needs memories", years after they graduated. Shaking his head, Osamu tried to drown out the annoying voice of his brother. He could have cared less about remembering or suppressing memories, as he had always lived in the moment.

It was a slow day, and all he could do was clean the tables and the counter. The customers come, he serves tea and onigiri, they go, and the cycle is repeated.

A slow nostalgic song plays on the stereo. He hums the familiar tune to himself, trying to keep himself entertained.

_ Osamu finds himself lost in the rain. Waiting. He hears a song being played from a distance. The words were garbled and he couldn't understand them, yet the tune was catchy enough to hum to himself.  _

_ The rain won't stop pouring. The umbrella he haphazardly took was broken and the water was soaking through his clothes. His hands shiver against the cold, but he held the paperbag tightly. _

_ The onigiris were still warm. _

Osamu shook himself awake. Pressing a palm onto one of his eyes, he lets out another sigh. The song continues to play.

The door opened. He looked over from the counter, ready to welcome a new customer. The words got stuck in his throat as his eyes widened in shock.

The person stopped in front him. Osamu seemed to be frozen in time, as he took in the sight of the person in front of him. He felt light-headed, leaning on the counter to support his weight. The person's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Hi, Osamu."

That voice. Osamu inhaled sharply. How long has it been since he had heard it? 4? 5 years?

"Keiji," he whispered. The man smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Osamu felt his heart stutter painfully.

∆

Keiji sat near the entrance beside the windows. Osamu had served him tea, in which he still haven't made a move to touch. He appeared to be calm and serene, as beautiful as Osamu remembered him to be. Dark eyes that crinkle with wisdom and humor, a demeanor that can only be compared to that of a prince. He has still the same aura of aloofness and mystery, one that Osamu had been drawn to. 

However, Osamu couldn't help but notice the bags under his eyes, the burden that seemed to weigh on his shoulders, the tight-lipped tenseness of his graceful features. The world weighed on Keiji and he was too exhausted to carry it.

As he cleaned the mess of other customers, he wondered how the other man found him or his shop, or how he even remembered Osamu after all these years. They didn't exactly keep in touch. Why would they? They didn't part in the best of terms, and weren't in the best of terms.

Osamu decided to entertain the other man. What else could he do? He knows that customers won't be coming in at this time, as it was only an hour past lunch. He could use a distraction and he could humor… whatever Keiji came here for. His chores were finished, the cashier box was already locked, and the other customers who chose to stay seemed content in having their moments alone, enough to be undisturbed for now. 

He approached Keiji and sat down in front of him.

Keiji turned to look, holding his stare. They were silent for a while. Staring into each other's eyes, looking for answers they can't form the questions to. Osamu finds it hard to look away.

It was Keiji who broke the silence.

"How are you?"

It was a simple question. An ice-breaker. A conversation starter.

Tapping his fingers on the table, he tried to read Keiji's intentions, but it's paired with some expressions Osamu couldn't recognize.

_ The rain pours and the thunder roars. In his cold solace, Osamu dreamed of a dark-haired beauty, of dark eyes that knows how to hide secrets, of facial expressions muted and hidden. _

Osamu narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "I'm fine. You?" Keiji's eyes widened slightly, but it was so miniscule that if Osamu wasn't staring he would've missed. Was Osamu answering his questions so much of a surprise that he had to break his perfectly schooled face and express emotion?

Keiji still gazed at him in silence, contemplating what words to say. It felt uncomfortable. Osamu waited, tapping his fingers on the table – slowly, rhythmically.

The other man released a small smile. "You still have the same habit," he said, gesturing at his hand. "That seemed to never change."

Osamu stopped, letting his hand drop onto his lap. He watched the other man carefully, observing the way his smile seemed to curl into sadness and disappointment… and some regrets.

"What are you doing here?" Osamu asked, keeping his tone civil. "How did you know of this place?"

"Atsumu told me," was the immediate answer. Keiji puts his hands on the table, fiddling with his fingers. "Bokuto-san and him were teammates."

Osamu clenched his jaw.  _ You don't have the right to call him that. Don't act so familiar with my family. _ He tried to breathe, calming himself down. He was aware that his brother was in a team with a certain loud man, a man unaware of how his existence had influenced Osamu's life. How Atsumu conveniently forgot to tell him he met Keiji is something he would discuss with him later. For now, he focused on Keiji, who was still waiting for a response.

"Okay."

Keiji released a breath, one that slumped his shoulders and stilled his hands. His face morphs into another expression Osamu couldn't recognize.

"So," he started, looking around his shop. "An onigiri shop, huh?" He shifted in his seat, trying to be comfortable under Osamu's scrutinizing gaze. "I remember you always complaining how it would apart in your hands, or that there's too much filling that the rice can't hold, or how it lacked rice all together."

Keiji paused, waiting for another response. Osamu held back his tongue, still observing the other man through narrowed eyes. The other man sighed before staring straight into Osamu's eyes, pouring an onslaught of emotions through their shared silence. Unshed tears prickle at the corner of his eyes, lips trembling as if one touch could make him fall apart.

Osamu struggled to understand. Why is Keiji the one expressing  _ this _ much hurt?

_ The rain poured continuously, and so did Osamu's tears. _

_ "I'm sorry, Osamu." _

"I'm sorry, Osamu."

He breathed. Hard. He stood up and turned his back from the other man.

"What are you saying sorry for," he asked, tone clipped. He clenched his shaking hands hard, trying to contain the rage and hurt, unwilling to let himself be vulnerable in front of Keiji. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He scoffed.

He had nothing to be sorry for, Osamu thought cruelly, because he was never sorry.

Keiji stood up, the chair screeching an awful sound as he approached Osamu.

"I-" he stuttered, "I just thought - it's been years, you know. And I-I thought whatever happened in the past, we could move past it."

Osamu glared. Was it that easy for him? To forgive and forget, to move on, to just turn a blind eye to everything Osamu went through?

Or was it the guilt?

Osamu wanted to laugh. Why now? Why not then? Why not when Osamu was ruining himself with self-doubt, constantly questioning where he had gone wrong? It took him a very long time to escape  _ that _ heartbreak, and it took a beating from Atsumu to pull his head out of his ass. Where was Keiji then? Where was his apology? Where was the 'sorry' he longed to hear, hoping it was just a painful misunderstanding?

_ It took him a second to process the words. The man turned to leave him in the pouring rain. Osamu woke in his stupor, promptly dropping the paperbag as he tries to catch the man. _

_ "Why," he asked, voice trembling. "Why?" _

_ The man looked at him with an unrecognizable expression, carefully pulling Osamu's hand away from him. _

_ "Osamu," the man started, "I'm not the person for you." _

_ A sob was begging to arise from Osamu's throat. Who else is meant for him if not this man? He suppressed the emotions threatening to spill, unwilling to make himself pathetic even if his eyes were wetting in desperation. _

Keiji waited. Waited for him to speak, to move. Both of them stood there, unmindful of the whispers of the customers around the shop.

Then, Osamu started to walk away.

"You should go home," he said simply, not looking at Keiji anymore. He didn't see Keiji's face falling into disappointment and sadness. "It's bad manners coming into another man's doorstep, when there's one waiting for you at home."

Keiji laughed softly and it took Osamu's willpower to not look at his direction.

"There's no one, Osamu," Osamu heard him whisper. "I have no one."

_ "Was there anyone else?" He asked, eyes desperately pleading. _

_ The man was silent. Osamu knew he was grasping straws, but he had to make sure. _

_ "Yes." _

_ The onigiris grew colder as the rain and mud water soaked through the paperbag. But Osamu paid it no mind, desperately clutching the arms of someone who taught him how love blossoms at first bite. _

_ "Don't leave, please." _

_ The other boy was unphased, even as Osamu begged, even as Osamu cried. They stood under the pouring rain, but only Osamu could feel how cold it really was. _

_ "Don't — " _

"Leave, Keiji."

∆

Keiji left and Osamu was filled with thoughts. He tried not to let it bother him as he worked, tried not to think of it even as they whisper at the back of his mind.

Did he do the right thing? Was it right to send Keiji away?

Did he regret it?

He shook his head in an attempt to dispel the worrisome thoughts, not that it did him any good.

"One umeboshi onigiri, please."

His hands worked in a practiced grace, molding the rice ball into perfection.

_ He remembered the hands that taught him to put a piece of himself to every onigiri he created, the smile that encouraged him to make it better, to hone it into perfection. He remembered the praise after that first bite, the words that blossomed his first love. _

He closed up early, bidding farewell to his last customers and cleaning up the shop. He kept his thoughts empty, kept the whispers at bay. He blocked the image of Keiji's sad smile as he walked out that afternoon, not looking back at the shop or Osamu.

Closing the front doors, he cast a glance towards the gray sky, a tell-tale of heavy rain threatening to last through the night.

**Author's Note:**

> okay i am very new to this ship but i already love them, they occupy every brain cell i have for the past week sjhsdhsdjksd i just had to write them! sorry if this seems a little sloppy, i promise to write better
> 
> also HAPPY OSAAKA WEEK! (I only found out yesterday lmao)
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


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